The Pirate's Daughter
by Lady Aquinas
Summary: Someone from Jack's past pays him a visit, Elizabeth struggles with her growing attraction to Jack and Will finds that being a pirate has certain advantages...
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

She had first learned of him at the age of sixteen, decided she would kill him at seventeen, and finally set out to find him at the grand old age of nineteen. For one whole year she had nursed her mother as her lifeblood drained from her frail and pain wracked body and it was during this time that her hatred of him festered and grew within her until her sole reason for living beyond her mothers death was so that she might find him and have his blood upon her hands. She was not as naive as those around her thought and she knew that the path she had chosen would be fraught with peril and danger. But she had given it a great deal of thought during the sleepless nights she had kept vigil at her mothers bedside and she had planned it as carefully as she could. Over the years she had hoarded her mothers memories like precious stones and played them over and over in her mind until she knew each one as if they were her own. Her mother loved him still. It was in her voice when she spoke of him. A sigh here, a smile there. It was the fact that her mother could still love him after everything he had done that angered her. Her need for revenge against him was like an itch that gnawed at her. Rest would not come until she held her knife to his throat and saw true regret in his cold black eyes.

Her mother was buried on a cold July morning, a thick bank of fog moving over the barren land like the caress of a lovers hand. Yet there was no warmth to be had as a few locals gathered beside her to bid their final farewells to a woman that had been too young to die. Kneeling beside the freshly dug grave long after the others had gone, she offered up a prayer for the woman who had given birth to her and made a final promise that she would find the man who had abandoned her when she needed him most. Standing on unsteady legs she felt loneliness seep into her bones and for the first time in her life she felt what it was like to be truly alone. Squaring her shoulders she regained her composure, took one last look at her mothers final resting place and turned to make her way back to the small house that had been her home. She had packed the night before knowing that after her mothers burial there would be no time to waste. Her passage on the Morning Rose had been booked the same day her mother had passed away and it was scheduled to leave that very afternoon. Before the sun set that evening she would be on her way to a place from her mothers memories. A place full of adventure, dangerous men and whoring women. Tortuga.


	2. Chapter 2

I'd just like to take the opportunity to thank those readers who gave me feedback. It's greatly appreciated. I have also to this point failed to offer the obligatory disclaimer, so here it is. I own nothing, bar my uncontrollable addiction to coffee, a bit of a Will Turner fetish and the desire to write. I of course do not own any original characters, only those strangely odd folk that tend to pop up now and again out of the depths of my mind. I have no idea where this tale is going or even if it will arrive at it's unknown destination. It may get lost (as some stories are apt to do) in Davy Jones Locker and never be heard from again!

Part 1

Two weeks out on the Morning Rose, Cora walked unsteadily on the deck of the swaying ship. From her first moments on board she had been wracked with seasickness and had begun to think she would never get her sea legs. She gazed out at the endless stretch of water and felt a sudden urge to weep. The loss of her mother seared her and wished for not the first time that she was there with her. Taking a deep breath, salty air filled her lungs and she closed her eyes as a wave of nausea hit her. 'Are you alright love?'. Cora spun around nearly losing her balance and hitting her lower back against the wooden rail. 'Mrs Davies,' she proclaimed upon seeing the wizened old face of the elderly woman who had befriended her on the voyage, 'you scared the wits out of me!'. 'Forgive me dear,' the old woman replied, 'I didn't mean to startle you'. Cora reached out and clasped her hand squeezing it affectionately. 'I was just contemplating the sea'. 'She is no man's mistress' Mrs Davies offered enigmatically. 'Well,' stated Cora, 'she certainly isn't mine.' Hand in hand the two women began a slow leisurely stroll along the deck. 'Did I ever tell you about my first husband Dudley?' the older woman asked, nary taking a breath before continuing on, 'he was a sailor you know, oh yes, such a handsome devil'…

It was near midnight before Cora fell into a light sleep. Tomorrow they would reach Tortuga and was filled with nervous apprehension over what awaited her there. In the dark recesses of her mind she wondered what her mother might have thought about what she had planned. She was torn between guilt over betraying a love that her mother had harboured her whole life and a need for revenge that had been fed by watching her mothers slow creep towards death. Her dreams provided her no respite and were filled with images of her bedridden mother coughing up her life's blood and a man hidden in the shadows of her sickroom. His face was masked by a long black cloak and yet she knew that he was watching her. Her mothers body shook with every cough and yet the man did not move from his position. In the dream she moved towards him, determined to see his face, knowing in her heart exactly who he was. She could feel the rage build up inside her with every step she took and in what seemed like the longest time she stood before him. The light of a single candle caressed her face and it seemed that light and dark met in that corner. Her hand shook as she lifted it up towards him, her fingers feeling like ice. With nervous heart she clutched the veil that hid him from her and with one swift movement she pulled it aside only to find that in that instant, he was gone. Spinning around her eyes darted nervously around taking in the now empty room. The bed that only moments ago had been occupied by her mother was empty. The sheets lay ruffled as if to testify to the body that had recently lain there. Moving towards it she could see small droplets of red blood that formed a circle around a single metallic object that glittered in the candlelight. She felt drawn to it in a way she could neither control nor explain. Reaching out she picked it up gingerly and saw that it was sticky with her mothers blood. It was barely discernible beneath the scarlet substance that coated it and yet she knew exactly what it was, even though she had never set eyes on it before in her life. It was her fathers compass.


	3. Chapter 3

Thankyou for the reviews lovely people. As always they are much appreciated.

**Tortuga**

From his position at the table in the furtherest corner of the room he had an uninterrupted view of the entrance. He had sat in this same

spot for what seemed like hours and his patience was quickly wearing thin. Five brawls had broken out in the last hour alone and he

was thankful that his relatively secluded place had allowed him to remain undisturbed by the other patrons. One hand casually grasped

the glass of watered down rum the barman had served him while the other rested casually on his thigh, inches away from his cutlass. It

was not his first visit to the seedy Inn that serviced most of Tortugas more colourful inhabitants. He'd been here before. With Jack The

man's name left a bitter taste in his mouth and he felt a fresh surge of anger at the thought of him. It seemed almost surreal that this time

a week ago he'd been contemplating his future and a new life with Elizabeth. Now it seemed as if she was a world away, and not in the

comfort of her fathers house as she should be, but in a filthy, rat infested cell in bowels of Port Royals Prison. He had never felt so

helpless.

'Hullo love, you look lonely. Fancy a bit of company?' Will looked up at the sound and found himself looking into the eyes of tired

looking prostitue who'd seen better days. A wave of pity washed over him and he gave her a half smile.

'As tempting as the offer may be, I'm waiting for someone' he offered.

'Pity' her red lips pouted, 'Could've shown you a good time an all'.

A thought sparked to life in his mind and before the whore had a chance to wander away in search of more prospective business for

the evening, he asked her:

'Do you know of a man by the name of Captain Jack Sparrow?'

As soon as the words left his mouth it occured to him that asking this question may get him slapped.

'Know of him' she confirmed. 'Seems Jack's the topic of conversation tonight'.

'What do you mean?' He leaned forward feeling adrenaline course through him.

'O'heard someone else askin bout him earlier I did'

'Who?' He rose from his chair restraining the urge to grab the woman and shake her.

She turned until her back was all but to him and quicly scanned the smoke addled room until her eyes came to rest in the direction of the bar.

'See that young fella over there?' she pointed 'the one with the brown pants and ugly hat'

'What did he say?'

'Just asked after Jack is all. Wanted to know if anyone knew where he was. Made the mistake of asking Gisele too'

The name seemed familiar. 'Did she slap him?' he asked after putting two and two together.

'That she did my love'

'Thankyou' he offered moving away from her and towards the bar.

'If'n you get ya business done later...' she let the suggestion hang in the air between them.

'Maybe later' he murmured knowing it was a lie.

Her throat was on fire. She fought the urge to retch and held on to the bar for dear life. She had consumed three rums in the past half

hour and knew that very soon she would either pass out or bring up her dinner, both effective ways of losing her cover. 'At least I don't

appear out of place' she thought, grateful that the room was bustling with people. The extra numbers helped her hide in plain sight.

She'd been pushed, shoved and knocked to the ground from the melee that had broken out and felt battered and bruised in places she

didn't know existed. And to top it all off nobody seemed to have any idea where her father was. Not that she let on about her

parentage, that would be folly. Getting a straight answer out of anyone here seemed near impossible. They were either too busy

drinking, already drunk or had their minds occupied with other forms of entertainment. For not the first time that night she felt a

heaviness settle on her and wondered if she'd made the biggest mistake of her life coming here. Feeling the burn of the rum leave her

throat and settle across her chest, she took a deep breath. Tomorrow, she promised herself. 'Tomorrow I'll get some answers'. With

this thought in mind she turned from the bar intending to leave and found herself face to face with a pirate. At least he seemed like a

pirate. A very handsome one at that her slightly addled mind thought.

'You've been asking about Jack' he said, his voice low and rich.

A tingle passed down her spine at the sound of it and it took a moment before she could respond.

'What's it to you?' She didn't look him in the eye, trying her hardest to get the right pitch to her voice.

'I'm looking for him' the pirate replied, his velvet voice laced with a touch of steel.

Taking a deep breath of oxygen into her lungs, she squared her shoulders and looked up at him.

'I don't know where he is so I can't help you with that'.

Silence fell as he held her gaze, a slight frown maring his handsome face. She thanked the lord that she'd thought to buy the cabin boys

hat along with his pants and hoped that it helped hide some of her features. Under it her hair ached with the multitude of pins she had

used to keep it up.

'S'cuse me' she muttered deciding the time had come to leave. Gone was the feeling of intoxication she had felt moments before, now

all she felt was a strong need to move away from the man in front of her.

His body moved easily to intercept her. Lifting her chin up she looked him in the eyes, hoping that she looked tougher than she felt. She

took a step in the opposite direction and he mimicked her movement.

'Look' she said in exhaspiration, her hands coming to rest on her hips, 'I don't know who you are or what you want, but if you don't let

me pass I'll knock you fair on your arse'.

The quirk of his eyebrow was his only reaction and she could've swore that the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. She made to move

around but was once again blocked by his tall frame. Taking a step back she came into contact with the bar. Looking up into his now

obviously amused face she felt her blood boil. Who did he think he was? She opened her mouth to vent her anger and frustration but

before she could speak the sound of breaking glass caught her attention. Another fight had broken out and two men brandishing

broken bottles circled one another warily. It had a ripple affect. Within seconds other patrons had joined in. Using the distraction as

her impetus she quickly tried to duck out from under the pirates arm but was not quick enough. She felt his strong fingers encircle her

upper arm and she knew that tomorrow she would have a bruise there.

'We need to have a chat' the menace in his voice was unmistakeable.

Fear blossomed in her stomach and she knew she needed to get as far away from him as possible. Leaning as far back as she could

she brought her right arm around in an arc and her fist connected squarely with his jaw. The action caused him to lose his grip on her

arm, and without looking back to see his reaction she weaved her way through the bar and it's brawling inhabitants and out into the

street.


End file.
